The Penn's Grove record., 1887-01-15

"Why, Maggie, you don't really in
tend top What will everybody say1"
Sand why should / care what they
say, Lucy? Mary is i'll, probably dan
gerously SO, and L can't see how it
would be wrong to go and see her."
"Well. I wouldn't go. IL you do,
her family will cut you. They're the
first people here, you know. Besides,
even the minister says 1t is wrong to
encourage such a disobedience as Mary
showed. What will he say?"
81 can't help what he says, Lucy. 1
think it is right. Mary did wrong, l
know, in marrying against her parents
consent: but that is no reason why she
should now be left to perish"
"Well, do AS you please, but 1t
wouldn't be me that would co." and
Lucy Morrison turned away from the
little gate in front of the Widow Will
bohn's cottage without giving the good
night kiss that was usually bestowed on
her early friend.
Maggie gave one smothered sigh, as
she caught the last glimpse OF the re-
treating figure, and a tear-drop dimmed
her blue eyes as she thought of Mary
Walton's pale face and dropping form.
"God did not inculcate the principle
that we should crush the erring," she
murmured, ''and surely poor Mary's
sufferings have partly atoned for her
dlsobedience."
The morrow found Maggie at the
bedside of the deserted, perhaps dying
wife.
''Here, let me arrange this pillow for
you, Mary she whispered, smoothing
back the brown locks from a forehead
that had once been handsome. "There,
is not that more comfortable2"
"Ohi yes, thank you. But Maggie
Miss Wilbohn,' added she, looking up
through the mist of tears that a Kind
word had called forth, how much easier
it is to die, knowing there is some one
who can shed a sympathizing tear over
U ~infirmatles."
Maggie Wilbohn clasped the hand of
the poor penitent in both her OWE dim
pied palms and said: 'Can l do any
thing more for you, Marypn
"No, thank you; not for me-" she
answered. "But when 1 am gone, will
you be his fr1endp" And she pointed to
her baby, that lay, poor innocent, sleep
ing beside her. 81 know my parents
will never forgive me-father, when he
once has made up his mind, never
changes it-but, OIL they may soften
to it" and she broke down In tears.
81 will willi' cried Maggie, sob
bling. "But let me go 70 your father.
Perhaps he will relent.
D.,N A. - 49, "a IIrzoea5 rp,n nI~ooly
dulled. In that moment of agony Mary
Wilton's spirit had passed to Its eternal
habitation.
Willard HARDWOOD read the funeral
service at the little church yard, where
a few friends were assembled, with the
now r~epentant parents, to conine the
body to its narrow house. The voice of
the young minister was eloquent With
feeling as he spoke of the apostles
words. "Faith, hope and charity; but
the greatest of these is charity"
He had heard OF Maggie's courageous
visit, and he looked toward her as he
said that there was reason to believe thu
erring daughter had died penitent. And
he added in the words of Scripture:
"He that ~converteth the sinner from
the error of his way shall save a soul
from death and shall hide a multitude
of SINS"
In a few weeks the village gossipers
began to whisper that Mr.. Harwood
intended giving up his present boarding
place and occupying the little parsonage
for his future residence. Numerous
were the surmises in regard to so strange
a procedure, but Maggie'S demure lit
tie countenance revealed no suspicious
OF who was the intended mistress of
the minister's coveted home.
AT last, however, the secret could
nc longer be kept, and it was known
that Maggie was to be the minister's
bride. Nor was 1t concealed that Mr..
HARDWOOD, for he told the fact himself,
had first been attracted toward her by
her conduct in reference to poor Mary.
The fathers wealth and social position,
which had frightened others from in
terfering had not deferred Maggie.
"Brave girlr' the minister was re-
ported to have said when he heard of
her visit; ''she has taught US all a les
son."
So the parsonage was relitted, the
bells rang out a merry peal, and Mag
gid HARDWOOD left the little brown cot
tage as the envied bride of the talented
young pastor, while Lucie, who had
stiled the natural pity OF her heart
because she feared to offend Mary's
family or lose position in Mr.. Har-
woods eyes, missed the prize which
she had secretly coveted all along.